


The Great Evil

by Ponderosa (ponderosa121)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Brothels, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), F/M, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns for Aziraphale, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Other, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution, Rimming, Sex Work, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley, Timeline What Timeline, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wing Kink, probably wildly anachronistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: “Your job is tempting humans to wicked deeds, not--” Aziraphale waved a hand around at the bedchamber he found himself in. The walls were papered in a pattern that matched the fine lace edging Crowley’s chemise and the canopy bed placed prominently in the middle could easily sleep five. The linens, a rich violet, were a touch rumpled, and belts and buckles of a certain design hung conspicuously here and there. Aziraphale withdrew the gesture and covered his mouth. “Oh, I see.”[Written for the GO Kink Meme prompt: At some point in history, while presenting as a woman, Crowley works as a prostitute (a very easy and lazy way to do temptations). Aziraphale ends up paying for a night.]





	The Great Evil

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to grimdarkfandago who has been an excellent enabler, and to marchingjaybird & gilli_chan who provided amazing suggestions for the menu of services. Written for the [Good Omens Kink Meme](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/), so thanks OP for making me get over my pearl clutching of I can't possibly write these two explicitly banging. Two DT-related fandom brothel fics in a row are just a coincidence.... Also, I tagged for both F/M and Other since Crowley presents as female and uses she/her pronouns, but there are references to Crowley using other pronouns/genital configurations. If there's anything I missed that I ought to tag for, please let me know.

“Aziraphale? Fancy meeting you here.”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale dropped his quizzing glass and spun around to find his demonic counterpart slinking into the parlour. “What are you doing here?”

“Whatever’s on the menu, I suppose. You?”

“Well, I’m um, also...working,” Aziraphale replied delicately, gaze darting around the brothel’s sitting room. It was a distinctly upscale affair, plushly appointed, the lamps turned low for mood rather than to save on oil. “I’m here to prevent the young master over there from dallying with the wrong woman. He’s destined for a happy marriage in a year’s time, but if he gets the clap tonight there won’t be any children and, oh, Crowley, he’s going to be a _wonderful_ father.”

Crowley eyed the young man up and down before taking a half step forward. “I suppose I owe you one after Marrakesh…. Don’t fret. I won’t tempt him into anything he doesn’t clearly want.”

“Thank you, Crowley, but you’re not his type.”

Crowley looked just the slightest bit offended. “Angel, I’m everyone’s type.”

“Of course you are. At the moment though, I think a more straightforward solution will do.”

“What d’you mean someone’s gone and stole your purse?” said the woman across the room in a tone meant to carry. Heads swiveled and the well-dressed young man looked appropriately mortified and ready to run for the door.

Chest puffing like a pigeon, Aziraphale dusted his hands off and rocked back on his heels. He nudged Crowley and beamed a self-congratulatory smile at her only to find heads turning once again. This time in their direction. His heart seized in his chest. Did he somehow flub a divine intervention badly enough for all the mortals to notice?

“Oi, you!” the madame pointed a finger and tipped her head back to look down the bridge of her nose. She had a rather intimidating demeanor.

Aziraphale pointed hesitatingly at himself and mouthed, “Me?” before realizing that she was aiming her finger at Crowley. Relieved, Aziraphale released the breath he’d been holding and felt his heart start up again.

“Miss Crowley, you want another one on credit? Or, the gentleman might have something to trade...I didn’t ask. You’ve got a soul, don’t you? They say milady’s a right demon in the sack.” The madame laughed raucously as the young man’s complexion went to milk. “I’m just teasing you, lad. But in all seriousness, Miss Crowley. D’you want this one?”

Aziraphale looked in horror from the young man’s hopeful-yet-slightly-queasy visage to Crowley who seemed at this moment to be considering the notion anew. “You do not!” he told Crowley firmly.

Crowley’s brow winged upward, and she cast a vaguely smug look at Aziraphale. “Seems like I might be his type after all.“

“She can’t. She’s spoken for!” Aziraphale shouted, and hooked his arm through Crowley’s. “I’m sorry, but the young man will just have to go home alone and learn a valuable lesson about being more careful with his money.

“He’ll never be able to support a family if he fritters his savings away,” Aziraphale added, pulling fistfuls of banknotes out of his coat and thrusting them at Crowley without looking. “O, but my greatest regret is that I have no legacy to speak of to carry on my family name, only the fleeting pleasures afforded by handsome women of dubious morals.”

The madame gave Crowley a look as if to say _take that idiot upstairs and shut him up,_ but Aziraphale was done carrying on. He’d run out of steam and besides, the young man had used his tirade as an excuse to slink out unnoticed.

“Thank Heaven for that,” Aziraphale said, and half-swooned against Crowley.

“Crisis averted, soul saved. Future lineage ensured into the coming centuries,” Crowley agreed. Her hand on Aziraphale’s back was a comforting presence, and she guided him out of the parlour in the direction she’d appeared from.

“I can’t believe you actually entertained the notion of sleeping with the fellow,” Aziraphale said as he companionably followed Crowley up the stairs. 

_“Well,”_ Crowley said, between nipping bites at the tips of her gloves to tug them off, “it is my job, angel.”

“Your job is tempting humans to wicked deeds, not--” Aziraphale waved a hand around at the bedchamber he found himself in. The walls were papered in a pattern that matched the fine lace edging Crowley’s chemise and the canopy bed placed prominently in the middle could easily sleep five. The linens, a rich violet, were a touch rumpled, and belts and buckles of a certain design hung conspicuously here and there. Aziraphale withdrew the gesture and covered his mouth. “Oh, I see.”

“Why waste all my time going all around the city looking for souls to corrupt when they come strolling on in of their own free will. I offer the patrons a little more than they’d bargained for, teach the other girls how to effectively upsell, and after a bit of spit and tickle everyone goes away happy. Did you know that I can tempt up to a _half dozen_ souls a night in this place? My success rate has gone through the roof!”

Aziraphale frowned mightily. “So you’ve converted a den of sin into a factory. The Great Evil, indeed. This is a whole new level of cheating.”

“It’s efficiency not cheating.”

“That’s hardly a defense.” Aziraphale looked down blankly at the neatly printed card Crowley had slipped into his hands. “Sorry, what’s this now?”

Yellow flashed behind the black lace of Crowley’s half veil. “Your options for the evening, _obviousssly._”

_“The Moist Ethel, the Reverse Moist Ethel, a Manchester Muddy (French Style), a Filthy Rodney with full or half-finger, Demon’s Choice (extra for Riding Below the Crupper),”_ Aziraphale read aloud, skipping the rudest sounding lines. His brows went from knit to trying to escape and disappear into his hairline the further down the list he went. “What in God’s name is a _Well-Mixed Sandwich with Optional Pudding and Lively Candles Aflame (six of which are guaranteed for the Most Discerning of Gentlemen)?”_

Crowley took back the card and frowned at the line item. “To be honest, I haven’t the slightest idea. No one’s ever asked for it. Usually it’s just ‘rub my prick and pretend it’s ooooh the biggest you’ve ever seen’ or a bit of hasty buggering.” She offered it back to Aziraphale who declined with a small shake of the head. “Demon’s Choice then?”

Aziraphale sputtered, noticing that in addition to removing the gloves, Crowley had also shed her veil and shawl and had since gathered up her skirts and propped a foot on the low dressing stool to slide her stockings down. Her slender thigh and slim calf flashed pale amongst the mix of charcoal and crimson. Aziraphale stared despite himself.

“I couldn’t….”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t right, Crowley!”

“So you’d rather I go back downstairs and resume the corruption of at least two more mortal souls this evening?” Crowley glanced at the clock. “Maybe four. Five if there’s a threesome to be had.”

“You can’t extort me into having sex with you.”

“No, but the longer you think about it, angel, the more likely it is you’ll give in to the urge.”

“Why you-- You wily old serpent!”

“We can do it that way too if you’d like. No extra charge.”

Aziraphale _was_ tempted. Drat, but Crowley was good. It wasn’t so much the serpentform (though it was rather sweetly nostalgic of Crowley to suggest) but Aziraphale pined for the chance to spend a night in Crowley’s arms again. It’d been more than a century since the first and only time--and he hadn’t yet been smited so it couldn’t have been an unforgivable transgression on his part. At least in God’s eyes. Gabriel certainly would have a much different view of things. Very smitey, that one.

“Don’t you think it’s a little risky? Wouldn’t your people keep extra watch on places like this?”

“That’s the best part, angel,” Crowley said. She’d given up on offering tantalizing glimpses of flesh and just plopped down on the edge of the bed in a sea of skirts. She finger combed her hair, the length of it spilling free down to her hip. “From the start my side has been a bunch of try-hards, too busy working to corrupt humans who’ve never even thought of stepping foot in a brothel. And _your_ side certainly isn’t keeping a weather eye. How else can they profess ignorance and avoid punishing all the fine God fearing folk who wander in for nothing more than a good time?”

“Well they sent me here,” Aziraphale protested. He fiddled with the lace of his cuff.

“Did they? Or did you simply follow the young man until you realized where he was headed and add one and one together into the beast with two backs.”

That was indeed precisely how Aziraphale’s surveillance and maths had gone. He stared at Crowley in amazement. “How could you have possibly deduced that?”

Crowley’s smirk promised not to divulge the secret. Any secret really, up to and including that it knew Aziraphale was a hair away from conceding and joining it in the very large and only slightly rumpled bed.

Aziraphale spared a glance for the door. It was firmly shut, but notably had no lock. He was about to point out the lack of security and privacy when with a snap of Crowley’s fingers, a chair wedged itself snugly beneath the doorknob. “There, no interruptions.”

His mouth closing with a click, Aziraphale found he couldn’t think of another excuse. Granted, he wasn’t trying very hard to find one. He swallowed and avoided meeting Crowley’s eyes as he undid the buttons of his tailcoat. “Fine, but if word gets back to the home office, they’ll probably replace me with someone like Michael, and that’ll be an awful lot more work for you in the thwarting department,” he said, trying to sound as intimidating as the madame as he shrugged out of his coat.

“Time will tell,” Crowley replied. She settled back against the pillows and patted the empty space beside her. “Come along Aziraphale, hurry up and get naked. We haven’t got all night.”

“Surely I paid enough to keep you through ‘til morning,” Aziraphale said, pondering whether or not to produce his quizzing glass again to peer around for whatever Crowley had done with those banknotes. They’d seemed to have disappeared entirely, which he supposed was wise for someone in the profession, but still-- “Demon’s Choice was only two pounds!”

“You’re stalling.”

“And you’re incorrigible.”

“Thankssss,” Crowley said and showed a bit of teeth. She paused and her head tipped to the side as her expression slithered towards a frown. “Wait. _‘If word gets back to the home office…’_ Did you just try to _menace_ me? Was that--? Was that the voice you used in Dublin when you lost the flip?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Aziraphale said tartly, lining his shoes up neatly against the wall. He didn’t want to talk about it. He’d found he could pull off a temptation now without much thought given to the affair, and at first the idea of a menacing--as against his nature as it was--had been a nice change of pace. But when the time came he’d found that menacing was a lot less like the fright from a jack in the box and far too close to smiting for his comfort. “I got the job done, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Crowley acquiesced, and Aziraphale wondered if he’d gone and accidentally menaced right here and now. Oh, this was a very steep and slippery slope their Arrangement, and here he was slipping right into a demon’s bed on account of it.

The thought didn’t stop him though. Nor did it keep him from eagerly running a hand over the silk of Crowley’s skirts to luxuriate in the feel of the fabric. Maybe one day he ought to give women’s fashions a try again, though it never did feel like it fit his sense of self as well as it did Crowley. He found the cant of Crowley’s hip beneath the swathes of silk and followed it up towards the dip of her waist. The body he’d been assigned was so much softer than Crowley’s, far less angular, and he was more aware of it now then when last he’d lain beside her like this. Slowly, Aziraphale traced the boning in Crowley’s corset towards the low front that cut across her chest. He could recall how Crowley had fit against him in great detail, and as Aziraphale reached an arm around her to ease the corset’s lacing he began to anticipate the places where the angles of her bones would press against him when there was nothing left between them.

The beat of his heart had struck a full gallop as the corset loosened enough for Aziraphale to undo the busk. Crowley on the other hand seemed unruffled; only the slight parting of her lips and the near-imperceptible weight in her lashes betrayed how hard she struggled to not reveal her excitement. Or, at least, Aziraphale hoped that was the case.

“Crowley, I have to ask: Are you doing this because you truly want to or because I paid?” he asked, hand held hovering near the hem of Crowley’s chemise.

She hissed through her teeth and tugged the well-tied knot of Aziraphale’s neck cloth loose. The point of her nail scraped over the softness of his throat to catch at the point of his chin. “I never do things I don’t want to, angel.”

For the most part that was a complete and utter lie, but in this moment, Aziraphale understood the sentiment. He lifted the chemise over Crowley’s head and a delightful shiver ran through him when she grinned and divested him far more hastily of his waistcoat and shirt. Tunics being all the rage for ages had been terribly convenient and extremely comfortable, but this was one of the most wonderful things about modern garments, he thought: The act of undressing another person was rather like unwrapping a present.

As Aziraphale unfastened Crowley’s petticoats, he discovered that she hadn’t any knickers on. “Oh, that’s different,” he said, gesturing at the peak of Crowley’s thighs as she spread them lasciviously.

“It’s a cock, Aziraphale.”

“Yes. Yes, I know. It’s just the last time you were using different pronouns and had a--”

“Does it matter? If you want I could change it back.”

“No, don’t bother. It’s very shapely, and I’ve far more experience with eager pricks truth be told.”

“Of course you do. You can’t go more than two paces in Heaven without bumping into one.”

Aziraphale tittered politely and a bit nervously, gaze flicking towards the ceiling until Crowley caught his face in her hands. “Quit fretting,” she said, and drew him in towards a kiss. Her lashes drew heavy over her sulphur-yellow eyes. “Sssstop thinking about work and think about _me,_ angel.”

It was easier said than done. Aziraphale’s eyes remained wide well after their lips met, and it was only when Crowley twisted to rub the whole of her body against him and the contact sent little sensations flickering like candleflame along his nerves that he sunk fully into the kiss. Was that what the service had meant in regards to the Most Discerning of Gentlemen? The puzzle drew his thoughts ever further from what was going on upstairs to what was going on downstairs, where Crowley’s deft hand had begun to tease at him through his trousers.

Aziraphale rolled to his back and Crowley followed to press eagerly against him, her prick hard and ready against his hip as her leg slid between his. Crowley’s kisses were lazier than they’d been those decades past, and Aziraphale melted beneath the sweetly soft licks of her tongue against his own. When she settled astride his thigh, with a lock of her hair spilling bright over her shoulder like Botticelli’s _Venus_ and the rouge red of her lips dark as blood, Aziraphale felt his heart seize in his chest once more.

He cast his gaze aside, a sudden unease rising in him like floodwater. He struggled to avoid it, but it came upon him too quickly and his erection flagged.

Crowley leaned over him and smoothed an errant curl of hair away from his forehead. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern writ on her brow. She tapped her finger at the very spot where Aziraphale’s brow had knitted together once more. “Work intruding on your thoughts again?”

“No. It’s...” It’s not that simple Aziraphale wished to say as he gave strong consideration to the notion of running away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this to continue. O, how he desired to fall into more kissing and more yearning touches that bordered near to covetous. How he wished to discover new and wonderful ways to draw soft sounds of pleasure from Crowley’s throat. To make her sigh in the shape of his name. A trembling swell of raw emotion joined the unease filling his chest, squeezing up to spring from his eyes as tears, salted and damning. “You don’t understand!”

Crowley’s gaze darted around his face, hunting for the source of Aziraphale’s renewed hesitation. “Are you...jealous, angel?”

“Of what?”

“The men I’ve had in this bed. Two this past hour.”

Aziraphale shook his head and smiled fondly. He wiped the wetness away from his face. It wasn’t that at all. “No, of course not. What a fine time those gentlemen must have had. I’m certain you’re very skilled when it comes to lovemaking, Crowley.”

“Well, it’s been more of the tough love sort of gig today, but kind of you say.” Crowley produced a handkerchief from thin air and passed it to Aziraphale. “You know, there’s a lot less tempting in this job than you’d think. Sure, I make clients reveal their deepest darkest desires, but they’re usually a lot less deep and dark than they think. The numbers still look good though.”

“Can you tell what _my_ deepest, darkest desire is?” Aziraphale asked with some trepidation. As an angel, he shouldn’t even harbor any, and yet there was a little something squirmy in his chest that rippled like a snake in the grass, silent and hidden.

“Please. You’re far too easy,” Crowley scoffed. “You’re all wound up thinking about what will happen if we do this again.”

“I am indeed thinking of a next time, and the next after that!” Aziraphale wailed. Burying his face in Crowley’s handkerchief didn’t help in the slightest. It smelled strongly of her, that little mix of woodsmoke and roses and a spring afternoon in the early 1200s after the first light rain of the season.

“You always worry about the wrong things, angel,” Crowley said. She plopped down again, folding her arms over Aziraphale’s chest and propping her chin there. She watched him, unblinking, and waited patiently for the storm to pass.

It did, eventually, as the warm and comforting weight of Crowley draped atop him reminded Aziraphale that there was still no hint of smiting and Metatron hadn’t come round to scold him. There was really nothing to say that returning to Crowley’s bed a third or fourth time was either a foregone conclusion or that it’d get him kicked out of the ranks of Heaven. And maybe, just maybe, he’d ended up unintentionally soliciting Crowley for a reason. Surely keeping Crowley from her work would help balance the scales a bit, especially since it wasn’t like he’d been going about handing out blessings left and right like candy. Up to six a night?

“And now you’re convincing yourself it’s okay to be horny for me,” Crowley said. She moved to catch Aziraphale’s wrist and bring his hand towards her mouth. Her lips brushed like petals across the rows of his knuckles as she retrieved her handkerchief from his grip. She cast it aside as if to banish all of Aziraphale’s doubt along with it. “I promise you it is very okay, and everything’ll be _fine._”

“You say that, but I can’t possibly trust a demon at her word,” Aziraphale said, absently and somewhat by rote. His doubts ebbed as swiftly as they’d rushed in as he was drawn to the way Crowley held her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth while she slowly uncurled his index finger.

“Too late, Aziraphale, you already have,” she said prudently, one fine eyebrow cocked a touch higher. “For quite some time, if you think about it.” And then she slid her mouth over his finger and it was wet and soft and altogether too wonderful to be wicked.

Aziraphale had to admit that was the truth. Further placated, he sank deeply into the bedding as Crowley suckled at his finger, her teeth a hard line opposite the softness of her tongue. The waves of her hair had slid all to one side, and the notches of her spine flexed along the length of her back as she wriggled slowly downward. Already Aziraphale’s calves were tightening, his legs shifting restlessly as Crowley’s mouth slid away from his finger to tongue a kiss near the dip of his navel. She unfastened his trousers and tugged them down to his thighs, tongue flicking out delicately to taste the crease of his thigh. Aziraphale ached keenly when she took him in hand and measured the weight of his cock in her palm.

“Is it a, um…a nice one?” he asked, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve never asked when I’ve had to you know, use it to tempt a person.”

Crowley’s shoulder dipped in a shrug. She pulled a face then ran her open mouth along the side of it, flesh muting her thoughtful hum. “Not sure I’m the right judge. Always thought they looked a bit silly if I’m being honest.”

“Is that why you usually--?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So why the--?”

“Just felt like it. I’m free to be silly once in a great while, aren’t I?” She moved her mouth to the base again and dragged the flat of her tongue up the length of it in one broad lick.

“Well, I think yours looks very comely.”

“Oh, thank you, angel. Did you want to touch it?”

“I would love to in a bit, but right now that thing you’re doing with your tongue is-- Oh!” Aziraphale’s hips hitched upward of their own accord as Crowley’s mouth drew towards the crown of his cock again with a bit more vigor and her tongue darted beneath his foreskin. At Aziraphale’s shuddering gasp Crowley responded with a very pleased, very hungry sound in the low of her throat and her hand that she’d braced against the bedding clawed into a fist.

Aziraphale’s hand had also formed a fist, held tightly now against his mouth where a much louder moan threatened to escape. He watched avidly as Crowley swallowed him whole, the plump length of his cock disappearing past the red of her lips. Lashes downswept, she seemed singularly focused on the task at hand, an attention to bodily pleasure that Aziraphale had never managed to get her to devote to the finest of meals.

Since the beginning of time Crowley had always come across at a bit aloof, and to be lavished thusly with the whole of her attention kindled something golden and hazy inside Aziraphale. He ought to feel otherwise, a tiny voice in the back of his head suggested, more panicked and less precious, but Crowley, hungry as she seemed for the taste of him, didn’t seem inclined towards anything more fiendish than having a spirited good time. She seemed in fact to treasure the act as much as Aziraphale did, a blissful tremble passing through her frame here and there.

Beside the occasional quaver and in her hands fisted at the bedding, there wasn’t any tension to be found in the length of Crowley’s body. Aziraphale rather liked the way his own body moved where it was plush and padded, but Crowley’s was no less beautiful in its form. Aziraphale touched a hand lightly to the twist of her shoulders as she strove to discover if she turnt this way or that if she might find some way to take him deeper. Alas, she already had the whole of him cradled snugly in the warmth of her mouth and without a miracle Aziraphale couldn’t give her another inch.

When she grew tired of the suckling, or perhaps because of the newly frantic clutch of Aziraphale’s hand that warned her to slow down lest he be spent too quickly, Crowley rose and let Aziraphale’s cock fall wetly from her mouth. She scraped her lip dry only to immediately tongue it wet again.

“Did you like that?” she asked.

“Very much.”

Crowley’s eyes gleamed. “I’ve been practicing.”

“To marvelous effect,” Aziraphale assured her. He pressed a hand to his chest where the frantic thump of his heart was strong against his ribs. He could feel the beat of Crowley’s heart where her chest pressed against his thigh and it was steadier by far. “Tell me, Crowley, what do you enjoy most about your job?”

“Only having to go back to report every few decades. I suppose throwing around the occasional curse can be fun. Did I tell you about the time I--”

“I meant here in this place, not, down there,” Aziraphale clarified, throwing a pointed look towards the floorboards and then retrieving it quickly lest it draw unwanted attention.

“Oh.” Crowley stretched out alongside him and gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. For the most part it’s all a bit of all right.”

“Surely you must have at least some inclination towards one act or another. There are so very _many,_” Aziraphale said, a bit exasperated. Humans were endlessly inventive when it came to their genitals, not all of it Good, and he was fairly sure that had been something God hadn’t planned for in Her grand scheme.

Her head resting in her palm, Crowley toyed idly with Aziraphale’s cock. She wore a thoughtful expression that took a turn towards calculating. “I’ll let you know when you tell me which variety of apple you’re most fond of.”

“I’ve told you before, it depends entirely on the situation. Baked into a pie, fresh off the tree-- Ah, point taken,” Aziraphale said, chagrined. He’d only wanted some indication as to how the evening ought to proceed. He hadn’t intended for Demon’s Choice to rule the evening any more than he’d intended to be in Crowley’s bed in the first place. “Well, since I am paying for the pleasure of your company, I desire most to please _you,_ Crowley. What would you ask of me?”

Crowley’s eyes widened and her lip curled back from her teeth, stricken by the question as if she hadn’t been asked that very often if at all. The air warm between their bodies stirred, and for a moment Aziraphale thought she might scarper away. She sniffed somewhat disdainfully instead. “Now who’s cheating.”

“Being thoughtful is not cheating.”

“Well it’s something,” Crowley muttered, but after a lengthy span of breaths she wordlessly spun onto her belly. She spread herself invitingly, hips tipping to lift her bottom up, and Aziraphale kindly didn’t point out how lovely the blush looked risen into her cheeks before she buried her face in a pillow and spat out a muffled, “If you absolutely must have your way.”

“Oh, I must! And you won’t regret it,” Aziraphale said brightly. He clapped his hands together in delight before rising onto his knees. Lovingly, he swept a hand down the length of Crowley’s back. He was going to make her feel so very good this time, he was sure of it. Their first time together had been quite awkward. Fun, certainly, but they’d both made their missteps and there’d been a great deal of fumbling around as they figured out how to make things work properly because no matter Crowley’s years of experience tempting humans, temptation rarely equalled consummation, after all.

Aziraphale paused with his hands bracketing Crowley’s hips. _Temptation rarely equalled consummation…._

“You haven’t been practicing on my account, have you?”

A slightly delayed and muffled “Why the Heaven would I?” floated up from the pillow.

Mollified, Aziraphale nodded slowly. “Right, because that would make no sense whatsoever.” 

“Absolutely no sense. At all. Ridiculous of you to even think it, angel,” Crowley agreed, though the tiniest sliver of doubt remained and Aziraphale had to forcefully keep himself from asking once more to be absolutely sure that Crowley was being truthful on the subject.

Crowley shifted her hips impatiently from side to side and Aziraphale shook his head to dismiss the idea entirely. It _was_ a preposterous thought. A fortuitous coincidence and nothing more. Of course Crowley hadn’t begun working here for anything more than an easy stream of sinful souls and the convenience of being able to stay in bed all day and still be hard at work. Just as in the last few decades he’d merely happened to expand his library’s collection of erotic works, and had no idea it would come in handy here in this moment with such a lovely partner spread out before him.

Aziraphale dropped a soft kiss between the divots at the base of Crowley’s spine. “If you’ll permit me a few liberties first.”

“You can be as liberal as you care to with me, Aziraphale.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Aziraphale mumbled, lips brushing over the lithe muscles sculpted so gracefully at the low of her back. He blithely ignored Crowley’s muffled retort. The string of swearing hadn’t had the demon’s desired effect anyway, merely transferring the blush to Aziraphale’s face and drawing the tender warmth of affection to the surface along with it. Aziraphale pressed a smile to her skin. “I think I shall.”

Feelings of fondness towards Crowley had become a bit of a given, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d ever know what to make of it. Crowley did plenty of things to merit scorn, but never anything unforgivable or which would dissuade Aziraphale from consorting with him entirely. In fact, crossing paths with Crowley here and there made for some of the brightest spots in Aziraphale’s time on Earth, and they’d been stumbling over one another rather more frequently of late. He smiled as he thought of it and caressed the soft skin of her hip.Tonight promised to be another bright and shining point in time, Aziraphale thought, dropping a gentle, sucking kiss at the flat of Crowley’s sacrum as he spread her open with his hands.

She writhed impatiently and snarled a “Would you get on with it, angel, _please!”_ that was so desperate that it hadn’t come anywhere near menacing.

Aziraphale obliged, eager to taste her, and she gasped at the first touch of his tongue to her tailbone before he worked his way down along the length of her cleft. With no vulva to trace and no straining clit to tease between delving licks into the heat of her cunt, Aziraphale had to start at square one and learn Crowley’s body anew. She moaned into the pillow, but no amount of down or bedding or demonic tricks could keep the sound of Crowley’s pleasure from winging its way to Aziraphale’s ear in all its glory. He discovered with delight that she made even lovelier noises as he worked the tight clench of her hole open with the diligent application of his tongue. 

It was no great chore to unlock the ways his tongue on her here made her squirm. Aziraphale had always enjoyed mastering new things. If not, as the moment proved, always at the same pace as Crowley; she’d begun to quiver with a silent plea for _more_.

He spread her wider with his hands to push his face against her and spear her as deep as he could. She pressed her mouth to the back of her arm and groaned, her spine twisting and muscles cording. Pulling back to slide his finger into her elicited the arch of her back and a low, rapturous moan, and he felt his own core tighten in exhilaration as she grasped softly at him and her thighs quaked.

“I regret we didn’t get to this the last time,” Aziraphale said, between gently lapping at Crowley’s hole stretched around the crook of his knuckle. He’d found he loved the feel of a finger or two crooked up inside him and pressing at the soft, hidden flesh of his body’s interior. How wonderful that Crowley enjoyed it too.

Crowley’s only answer was to push back against the intrusion, and Aziraphale settled back on his heels to watch the plunge of his finger into her. And then the push of two, sensation coupled now with the pressure of his own bones forced together as her body held tight to his digits. He slid his free hand down the outside of her flank, skin like velvet beneath his palm, and when he trailed it back up the inside of her thigh he caught the weight of her jewels in his hand. He gave them a playful tug and thought not unkindly that in his estimation, after the smallest toe, testicles were the part of the human body that was the most silly to look at. All dangly and wrinkled like a dried out old peach, and so ridiculously tender.

A light squeeze sent Crowley’s face to the pillow again and the grip her body held around Aziraphale’s fingers went viselike. He supposed that given the amount of belts and canes and _devices_ strewn about on various surfaces, that it wasn’t a surprise for Crowley to enjoy those aspects of her work as well.

Aziraphale blushed deeply. Not at the thought of Crowley’s limbs spread wide and secured to the bed posts in general, but rather that the canvas of her body could be stretched out and waiting for _him_. A deeply ironic arousal, he recognized, given that she was prostrate before him at this very moment, but it was the idea of having her place herself at his mercy in that keenly specific way that gave him a shiver. He swallowed thickly. Better for now to focus on simple pleasures of the flesh and not any deep, potentially-dark desires lurking within him.

He bent again to drop kisses down the line of her back and bring his mouth back to please her. Did she have other clients who were eager to tongue her open? He couldn’t recall how in vogue the act was these days. Humans never really stopped trying just about everything with their erogenous zones but certain things came and went like hairstyles.

After long minutes when his jaw began to ache sweetly, Aziraphale put a hand between Crowley’s thighs again. He cupped her prick lightly, measured the effect of each lick and each fleeting dip past the rim of her hole by the way her prick leapt and throbbed. The clench of her hole eased beneath each pass of his tongue, impossibly soft skin opening to him, and she’d begun to squirm and rut against the loose cage of his fingers. The tip of her cock was dewed and slipping against his palm and Aziraphale was wholly surprised by the sudden jump of it and the gushing spill that followed.

Panting lightly, Crowley pushed herself up onto her wrists, head hanging heavy. Her shoulderblades cast shadows along the valley of her back. “Well that was embarrassing. I hadn’t meant for that to happen,” she said, and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Not so soon anyway.”

Crowley hadn’t anything to be embarrassed about if Aziraphale was to judge. “I only wish I could have seen your face,” he said wistfully, his lips tingling as he sat back on his heels. He could guess at the soft shape her mouth had made when it went from taut with anticipation to slack with pleasure--probably it wasn’t much different than the first time he saw her crumble into orgasm. Aziraphale blinked, realizing just how very well he could recall that moment. It probably wasn’t a Good sign that he knew Crowley so very well he could summon her features down to the freckle. 

But they’d known each other for thousands of years, hadn’t they? No matter how relatively short a time they’d been working in mutually beneficial ways, it must mean he was simply paying excellent attention amongst all the thwarting. Just because he could hardly picture, say, Gabriel’s features beyond the shape of his frown or his condescending smile was beside the point.

Slowly, Aziraphale slid his hand out from between Crowley’s legs and wiped his hand neatly on the kerchief that Crowley produced again seemingly from nowhere. He was about to thank her for it when she caught him by the shoulder and guided him firmly to lay flat upon his back again. “I’m not completely spent,” she said as she gathered up her hair into a loose knot and swung a leg around to sit astride him. “Or at least, I won’t be in a moment. Hell hath no limits when it comes to the carnal acts.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Aziraphale said, trying not to sound so thankful for such a dubious benefit as Crowley stroked him. Eager as he was at the promise of watching her come a second time, he added the whitest of lies just in case: “Wonderfully convenient. For you. In your line of work, I mean” 

“One of a half-dozen or so perks my side gets for living in the basement,” Crowley remarked. She leaned forward to guide Aziraphale’s cock to her hole and sank down upon it so smoothly that she certainly altered her form a bit to do it.

Aziraphale gasped. It was not unlike sliding into her when she’d had a cunt, Crowley’s body wet and eager to receive him. He couldn’t use the term Heavenly, certainly not with a demon, but it was the only thing that came to mind. His nerves sang, and a searing flare of pure pleasure spread through him as he watched Crowley’s mouth part similarly. The soft flash of pink of her tongue disappeared behind the white of her teeth as she seated herself fully upon him and after a few appraising shifts flattened her hands on the pale spread of her thighs.

She looked, Aziraphale thought, very fetching atop him with the way her prick sat thickened and aslant, ripe with the promise to rise again. A lively fuck would see it bouncing merrily regardless, and in the moment Aziraphale could hardly conceive of why his side had allowed humans to carry on and believe a bunch of silly nonsense rules about the sinfulness of the flesh. He supposed the Romans had taken it a bit far, but they’d done just about _everything_ to excess.

Crowley’s lips drew back and she sucked a breath in through her teeth. It wasn’t a grimace of pain, no--Aziraphale had lost enough coin tosses by now to know that wasn’t it at all. Crowley was in this moment resisting a _very_ powerful temptation. She was, he wagered, holding back from desiring to take her pleasure from him at her own pace. What better ecstasy for a demon than to hold an angel in their thrall.

Aziraphale’s cheeks pinkened, and he ran his knuckles down the flat of her belly. He’d indulged, it was only fair that Crowley have a turn. Slowly he put his hand over hers, and gathered up her slim fingers in his own to guide her hand towards his mouth. He uncurled her finger as she’d done to him, and kissed the pad gently before turning his head to press a kiss to the damp center of her palm.

“You’re free to take liberty with me as well, Crowley,” he said. “Within reason, of course. Nothing that would, you know. Draw undue attention.” He pointed upwards and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“You said you wanted to please me.”

“And I do!”

Crowley’s expression was nigh undecipherable. Aziraphale waited expectantly for the grind of her hips. Or a jolly bounce. Or anything really, and this time when his wings began to itch from a creeping nervousness, Aziraphale let them unfurl and caged them around Crowley.

He tugged at her hand and she bent to him beneath the brilliant canopy of his feathers, seeming to welcome a shield held between them and the universe beyond. She yanked her hand free of his grasp and put it to the meat of Aziraphale’s shoulder, holding there, hard and desperate. Crowley tilted her hips, but still didn’t seek to move against him, instead her hand clutched tighter to him and she asked in a stumbling, stuttering rush for him to please, for Satan’s sake, hurry up and fuck her.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the request. It hadn’t occured to him that _he’d_ been the one doing the tempting, let alone that what Crowley had wanted all along wasn’t just a bit of a tickle, but for him to give her a true and serious pounding.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, momentarily flustered. His hands hovered, unsure at first where to settle but finding purchase at Crowley’s trim waist, slotting snugly above the cut of her hips. “You could have just said you wanted this!” Aziraphale pointed out in the wake of the first hesitant upward push of his hips as he rediscovered the simple mechanics of thrusting into a sweetly willing body.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love a good tongue-fucking from either end, but what did you think tits down and bum up meant?” Crowley hissed, and then listed further forward, arms bracketing Aziraphale’s head. “Oh yes, that’s it, angel,” she said in a rough whisper, when Aziraphale put his heels to the bed to thrust harder.

“It could mean a great many things, Crowley,” Aziraphale countered, no real vigor put to his defense when he was busy directing that energy into the balance of fucking up eagerly into her and guiding her down to meet him.

Aziraphale kept his wings wrapped around them, letting the rhythm of their coupling send the bare stretch of Crowley’s back gliding against his feathers. She luxuriated in the feel, grinding against him at the peak of each thrust, her gaze fixed on his with an intensity that broke only when she crushed their mouths together in a kiss that stole the entirety of Aziraphale’s breath with it.

Passion overwhelmed him. He put his hands to her skull, fingers burying in the waves of her hair and kissed her back with the same deep hunger as he fucked her harder yet. Crowley broke away first, a wild laugh stretching her mouth wide. It shouldn’t have been so pure a sound, and yet it was, and Aziraphale loved it with the whole of his essence.

“It’s a nice one,” Crowley said, between gasps for breath, her body squeezing tight around him. She fucked back against him with abandon. “Your cock.... Or you’re good at using it. Same difference, I suppose.”

“I’m so glad,” Aziraphale beamed. He unfurled his wings a bit, allowing Crowley room to sit up again, and her own cock did indeed bounce merrily. “I sometimes wondered if I ought to make a bigger effort.”

“Trust me, huge pricks are more trouble than they’re worth,” Crowley said, clearly speaking from all manner of experience and also clearly making another snide remark about Heaven. 

Aziraphale hastily shushed her and held one wing aloft again, just in case. It didn’t keep his gaze from pulling towards the threat of the home office, away from where he wanted it to be, on Crowley. Aziraphale couldn’t quite stop sneaking glances through his primaries, so he flipped them around, hoping that Crowley wouldn’t much mind.

She very much didn’t. That same wild laugh rippled out of her as her back hit the bed. She stretched her arms above her head and arched beautifully. The sound of her laugh stripped to a ragged gasp when Aziraphale caught his balance with the help of his wings and firmly reseated himself. It’d been a very long time since he’d brought them out for anything more than dusting a difficult to reach shelf, but as he gathered Crowley’s legs up over his arms and settled into fucking her again in a lively rhythm, he realized he had more than a bit of extra leverage to work with. 

Even though he really hadn’t paid any attention to it, Aziraphale--like every angel sent into the field--had passed Heaven’s mandatory combat training. In fact, the only session he even hazily recalled was _restraining a subdued opponent_. Despite that Crowley wasn’t actually subdued, and only technically an opponent, Aziraphale wagered she wouldn’t much mind him applying this particular lesson. Between thrusts, he snapped his wings out, curling them forward to slide the outer edge up along the long stretch of Crowley’s arms. Her fingers flexed at the caress, and when Aziraphale used the bend of his wings to pin her wrists, Crowley’s eyes flashed wide.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Aziraphale,” she said, her pupils narrowing to a fine sliver for a beat.

“Is it all right?” Aziraphale asked, pausing to hold in place.

Her fingers flexed again and Aziraphale could feel the ripple of tendons in her wrist. “Oh yes, and don’t you dare stop,” she said, gaze going hooded. The weight of her legs draped over the crook of his elbows shifted, muscles in them softening, as if she was consciously putting herself entirely into his care.

Aziraphale felt a sizzle of heat go up the back of his neck and know that it was right and good and everything she wanted. He curled over her, bent her near double, his hands sliding beneath her to cradle her as he fucked into her as deeply as possible. A sticky heat built where their flesh met and he could feel a stray curl jostled loose and tickling against his forehead as he moved against her. When Crowley’s mouth began to pull taut and her hands clutched desperately at the air, Aziraphale lost focus on anything and everything that wasn’t _her._

The twist of Crowley’s features, the straining stretch of her neck, the blissful glory of her in the throes as she shivered and came…. Aziraphale welcomed it like the rays of the sun. Felt blessed to hold her as she went boneless and sucked on her lower lip, moaning softly as he still moved inside her to find his own end.

It was swift, and sweet, and over altogether too quickly. Like every Earthly pleasure, he supposed.

Hours later, sated and warm and taking great advantage of how very large the bed was, Aziraphale looked down at Crowley lain half across him and dozing. It took a great deal of resolve to shift away, and he nearly stayed another hour when her arm across his chest tightened and suggested he might stay a little longer.

“You know you paid enough to move in for a month if you wanted,” Crowley mumbled, her face burrowing into his side.

“I can’t,” Aziraphale said, extracting himself as gently as he could. Something twinged in his breast as he gathered up his clothing and began to dress himself. And again, when the slide of Crowley’s bare limbs against the bedding signaled that she’d propped herself up on her side to watch him.

Her gaze tracked him as he moved to the dressing stool. “Can’t stay, or can’t want to?”

Aziraphale clutched his tailcoat in his hands and turned away. “An entire month, in a den of sin and vice? That’s ridiculous, Crowley. There’s no way I wouldn’t be found out.”

Behind him, he heard Crowley rise and then her arms were snaking around him to tug his coat from his hands. “I suppose you’ll just need to come back then...use up the remainder of the credit. Can’t be in debt to an angel, that’d throw off the Balance,” she said. Her words washed warm at Aziraphale’s nape. Aziraphale waited with bated breath for the drag of her lips up his neck.

Aziraphale’s lungs burned. Crowley basked in the heat of it.

“It would be...wise to check up on you, to keep the Balance,” he conceded. “Likely save a few souls in the process if I did come round say, every Tuesday.”

“Oh, loads of souls,” Crowley agreed. She shook out the tailcoat, holding it ready for him to slide into. “And Tuesday? Tuesday’s a verrrry popular night.”

“I promise to come back on Tuesday then, if you won’t stop me blessing a few of the girls on my way out,” Aziraphale declared, turning to face Crowley and let her help finish his collar and buttons. She produced that kerchief again out of nowhere, clean as new, and stretched it into a neck cloth. She tied it around his throat in a complicated and very fashionable knot.

“I won’t thwart you. I’m also not going to help by doing something foolish like tell you Miss Sally’s expecting and planning to keep the child. Hell forbid she spawn a healthy child or find steady employment elsewhere; she's one of the best earners in here,” Crowley said, and finished the last of Aziraphale’s buttons.

That little twinge in Aziraphale’s breast had vanished, and blossomed into something glowing and warm.

“So I’ll see you Tuesday, then. I have you at your word, angel.”

“I would never renege on a vow!” Aziraphale assured her.

Crowley shrugged and put on a pair of tinted spectacles and wrapped herself in a flimsy dressing gown to escort him back down to the parlour. She didn’t say a word as he threw blessings left and right like they were going out of style, and kissed him lightly on the cheek in farewell as the clock struck eleven.

It wasn’t until Aziraphale was stood outside on the stoop that he realized today was Monday.


End file.
